Work Text:
“Himemiya,” Utena says. “Have you ever been kissed?”
Anthy looks up from the book she’s been paging through. Raises one prim eyebrow, pushes up her wire-rimmed glasses with her middle finger. “Have you?”
“Oh, that’s not fair! I asked first.”
“You did,” Anthy agrees, and returns to her reading. Just like that, the conversation is over, nipped at the bud.
She should leave it alone, really. Utena should just leave it alone. Anthy’s made it clear that she should leave it alone. And yet—
“I wonder, would your...” Utena starts. Her cheeks feel hot; her whole face feels hot. She’s been thinking about it a lot lately, the logistics of Anthy being kissed. Anthy kissing someone. It makes her feel squirmy and sun-warm. “Do your glasses get in the way?”
Anthy folds over the corner of the page she’s on to mark her spot, closes her book, sets it down on the cushion beside her. She takes her time with it, and Utena’s heart races inexplicably.
Finally, Anthy raises her head and smiles a small and inscrutable smile. Pushes up her glasses once more—with her index finger, this time. “Want to find out, Miss Utena?”
Her words linger in the space between them like fragrant perfume. The scent of springtime roses. Subtle notes of magnolia. A touch of woodsy warmth. Utena closes her eyes and resists the urge to breathe deep, gather all of it into her lungs.
When she opens them a second later, Anthy’s leaned in, just a little bit. “Would you like to find out?” she repeats, her voice soft and low, but entirely free of the trepidation Utena has come to expect of her.
Utena exhales, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to close the distance between them and press her mouth to Anthy’s.
Anthy responds at once, kissing back sweetly. Her lips are soft, a little sticky with lip balm. Utena tastes it on her own lips, in her own mouth—rose-flavored.
Anthy raises one hand from her lap to cup Utena’s jaw and kisses her deeper, tilting her head a little. Utena mirrors her, and suddenly the angle is impossibly nice. She presses forward; their insides of their bottom lips catch and drag, slow and slick. Her heart pounds in her chest so loudly she half-thinks Anthy must be able to hear it, beating away frantically, exuberantly. She parts her mouth just a little further, and then everything goes velvet-soft and damp and—
They pull apart, pant against each other’s lips. The apples of Anthy’s cheeks are tinted a subtle shade of pink; Utena’s certain her entire face must be ridiculously flushed in comparison. They smile at each other shyly, breathless and warm and giddy with the scent of roses.
Anthy’s glasses gleam and twinkle from their perch on her regal nose. It seems they do not get in the way.